Who Let the Ghosts Out? Page 4

  “What was that?” Tara whispered.

  We both listened. I heard creaking floorboards. Scraping sounds. The clatter of metal pots and pans. Was it coming from the kitchen?

  I glanced at Max's clock radio. Nearly three in the morning. Who would be awake at this hour?

  I climbed to my feet and pulled my sister up. We floated to the bedroom door and poked our heads into the hall.

  More clattering sounds. A soft sizzle. Scrapes …and then a cough.

  “Max said something about hearing other ghosts in the house,” Tara whispered, staying close by my side. Her eyes grew wide. “Maybe it's Mom and Dad.”

  “In the kitchen?” I replied.

  She shrugged. “It isn't anyone in the Doyle family. They're all sound asleep.”

  She tugged my hand. “Come on, Nicky. Let's check it out.”

  I held back. “But … what if it's some other ghost? A stranger?”

  She stared at me. “Hey, you're afraid of ghosts, aren't you.”

  “Well … maybe,” I confessed. “Maybe I'm a little afraid of ghosts. You know I never liked scary stuff. I always hid behind the couch whenever you and Dad rented those scary DVDs.”

  I heard the banging of pots down in the kitchen. Another hoarse cough. And then a soft whisper, floating on the air: “Glory, glory…”

  Who could it be?

  Tara tugged me harder. “Come on. Stop pulling back.”

  I followed her down the stairs … through the dark living room, pale yellow light seeping through the window from the street. To the kitchen in back …

  Yes. Someone was definitely working in the kitchen. Working in the dark!

  I couldn't help it. I started to shake. I suddenly felt tingly all over, gripped with fear.

  Who would work in a kitchen in the middle of the night in pitch black?

  Tara walked in ahead of me. I hurried to keep close to her. She stopped. Reached up to the wall. Clicked on the ceiling light.

  And we both gasped in shock.

  10

  “LULU !” I CRIED.

  I couldn't believe it. I stared at the woman by the stove—our housekeeper. She looked exactly the same—short and very round, white hair tied up on her head in a tight bun, her dark eyes glowing. She wore a long white apron over a gray blouse and skirt.

  “Lulu!” Tara and I ran to hug her at the same time.

  But our hands went right through her. “You— you're a ghost too,” I whispered.

  She nodded sadly. “Glory, glory. I died soon after you left. But I came back. I waited for you two,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper. “I came every night to prepare your breakfast. I knew you'd return sooner or later.”

  She turned back to the stove. She worked a spatula over a big pan of fried eggs. The eggs weren't real. I could see right through them.

  “But what happened to us?” Tara asked, tugging at Lulu's apron. “How long have we been gone?”

  “A year … maybe two,” Lulu said. Her voice was so weak, I could barely hear it over the sizzle of the eggs.

  “Lulu, how did we die?” I asked. “Where are Mom and Dad?”

  “So weak …, ” she whispered. She flickered from view, then reappeared, still holding the spatula. “I can't hold on much longer. I waited for you. Waited to see you both …”

  “Lulu, we've missed you so much!” Tara cried, hugging her again.

  But the old woman disappeared in Tara's arms. A few seconds later, she was back, all gray now and out of focus. The ghostly eggs sizzled on the stove.

  “Please—where are Mom and Dad?” I cried.

  “Glory, it's good to see you,” she whispered. “Glory, I've waited so long.”

  “Can you tell us?” Tara asked, grasping Lulu's free hand. “Can you tell us what happened to our family?”

  “Phears,” the old woman murmured, her gray eyes going wide.

  “Fears?” I said. “What does that mean?”

  “Phears.” She spelled it for us. Then she faded away again, leaving a curl of fog in front of the stove.

  Tara and I waited, staring at the spot where she had stood. A few seconds later, she reappeared. “I waited so long,” she said. She reached out with both hands to rub our cheeks. A smile spread over her ancient face.

  The smile faded quickly. “Phears is the one,” she whispered. “Phears knows about your mom and dad. Your parents … they found the tunnel. They locked up the evil ghosts. But Phears let all the ghosts out. He knows. Phears knows.”

  Tara and I squinted at one another. “Phears? Is Phears a ghost?” Tara asked.

  “Is he in a tunnel somewhere?” I asked. “Please, Lulu—how can we find Phears?”

  “Children, don't step into the tunnel,” she whispered. “Only the living can go into the tunnel … and return.”

  “Tunnel? What tunnel?” I asked. “Where can we find Phears?”

  “Glory, it's good to see you both. Glory, I've missed you so much.” She gave us a sad wave, then faded away. The spatula floated in midair.

  “Lulu, wait!” I pleaded. “Come back. Tell us about Phears. Tell us about our parents. Please—!”

  The spatula vanished. I heard the sizzle of the eggs. Then they vanished too, along with the pan.

  Tara and I stared at each other, alone in the kitchen now. “Who is Phears?” Tara asked. “Why was Lulu talking about a tunnel? Why wouldn't she tell us about Mom and Dad?”

  I shrugged. “I don't know.” A shiver ran down my back. “Let's wake up Max,” I said. “Maybe he knows who Phears is.”

  We floated back upstairs. I could feel myself getting weaker. All the excitement over seeing Lulu was draining my strength. I knew I'd be fading away soon.

  We hurried to Max's room. He lay sprawled on his back, mouth open, arms dangling over the sides of the bed. “Wake up, Max!” I whispered.

  He didn't move, so I raised my voice. “Wake up! Come on—wake up!” I lowered my mouth to his ear and shouted, “Wake up Max!”

  Tara grabbed him by the shoulders and started to shake him. “Wake up! Wake up!” Suddenly, she gasped and let go. His head dropped limply to the pillow.

  “Oh no!” Tara cried, covering her mouth with one hand. “I can't wake him up. He's dead, Nicky. Max is dead!”

  11

  A CHILL WENT DOWN my back. I froze for a moment, staring at his limp body. “That's impossible,” I whispered.

  I pushed Tara out of the way and grabbed Max's shoulders. “Wake up! Max! Can you hear me? Wake up!”

  This can't be happening, I thought. This is crazy!

  I wanted to shake him some more, but I was losing strength. My hands went right through him.

  Finally, Max let out a groan. He opened one eye. Then, when he saw Tara and me, he sat straight up. “You're still here?” he asked, pulling the sheet up to his chin.

  “We … we couldn't wake you,” I said.

  “No one can. I'm a very heavy sleeper,” Max said. “Sometimes Mom has to pour ice water on me in the morning to wake me for school.”

  “You really scared us,” Tara told him.

  “That's a laugh,” Max said. “Me scaring two ghosts!” He yawned. “I was having the nicest dream. I dreamed you were both gone.”

  “We're not going away,” I said. “Not until we find our parents.”

  “Who is Phears?” Tara asked.

  Max blinked. “Who?”

  “Phears,” Tara repeated. “His name is Phears.” She spelled it.

  Max shook his head. “Never heard of him. Is he a friend of yours?”

  “We need to find him,” I said. “We think he's a ghost.”

  Max let out a cry. “Please—no more ghosts!”

  “You've got to help us find Phears,” Tara said. “We need someone who is alive. Who won't fade in and out like us.” She stuck her hand right through the headboard of Max's bed.

  “Will you help us?” I asked.

  “No way,” Max replied. “Read my lips—no way.”

&nb
sp; I could feel myself fading. I could feel the air blowing through me as if I wasn't there. Tara shimmered weakly. She was disappearing too.

  “But we can help you,” Tara insisted. “We can help each other. You don't want to go to the Plover School, do you, Max?”

  “I'd rather swallow a big hairy rat,” he said. “Whole.”

  “Well, Nicky and I will make sure you don't have to go there. Promise. We'll make you look awesome and brave. We'll show your dad that you're a total winner.”

  “Ha!” Max said. “Me brave? I'm afraid of my own dog!”

  “We promise we'll keep you from the Plover School—if you'll help us find Phears and our parents,” Tara said. “Please say yes, Maxie,” she whispered. “Please …”

  Did he agree?

  I don't know. I faded away before he gave his answer.

  My last thought before I disappeared: We've got to find this guy Phears. He's our only hope.

  12

  I WOKE UP — WIDE awake. Grabbed the sheet with both hands and gazed around my room.

  No ghosts.

  Whew.

  Were they gone? I hoped so.

  I'd had a frightening dream during the night. I dreamed I'd promised to help them find their parents.

  Oh no. Wait. I shook myself awake. That wasn't a dream. I really did make a deal with them. But why?

  Out of fear, of course.

  I was afraid that if I made them angry, they might try to possess me and inhabit my body. Isn't that what ghosts always do? Then you become like a zombie. You lose all control of what you say and do.

  Well, I didn't want two ghosts inside my body. It's crowded enough in here already with just me inside.

  I glanced around the room. No sign of them.

  “Please—disappear forever,” I said out loud.

  I showered quickly, pulled on a pair of baggy cargo pants and a red and black Digimon T-shirt, and hurried down to breakfast.

  Still no sign of the two ghosts. That made me very happy. Buster jumped up from under the kitchen table and growled at me.

  “Morning, Mom,” I said. Dad had already left for work. Colin sat at the breakfast table. I started to sit down, and he pulled my chair out from under me.

  “Hey—!” I fell on my butt.

  Colin hee-hawed like a donkey.

  Mom stood at the stove with her back turned. “I'm making your favorite, Maxie,” she said. “Blueberry pancakes.”

  “Sweet!” I said. Carefully holding on to the chair, I sat down next to Colin. I took a sip from my orange juice glass—and Nicky and Tara popped up on the other side of the table.

  “Morning,” they said together.

  I slapped my forehead. “You're still here?”

  “Of course I'm still here,” Mom said. “You know I don't go in to work till later.”

  “We're staying, Max,” Tara said. “We're not going away. We made a deal, remember? We're going to stay and help you—so that you can help us.”

  “But I can't help you,” I said.

  Mom turned from the stove. “You don't need to help me,” she said. “The pancakes are all done.” She carried a tall stack of them to the table on a plate.

  “Those look good,” Nicky said, reaching for the plate.

  “Stay away!” I cried.

  Mom stared at me. “How can I stay away and bring you your breakfast at the same time?”

  “I…I wasn't talking to you,” I told her.

  Colin raised a fist. “You were telling me to stay away?”

  “No,” I said, thinking quickly. I didn't want to get pounded first thing in the morning. “I was talking to myself. I was telling myself to stay away from eating too many pancakes.”

  Colin lowered his fist.

  Why couldn't Mom and Colin see the two ghosts?

  Mom poured maple syrup over the blueberry pancakes. Then she crossed the room to get her coffee.

  Colin reached for the pancake plate.

  But Nicky lifted the stack of pancakes right off the plate. “Yum,” he said. “Wish I could share with you guys.”

  “Put that down!” I shouted.

  Colin gasped. He stared at the pancakes— floating in midair. “What is that?” he screamed.

  “Uh … Mom used a very light batter!” I said.

  Colin reached up to pull the pancakes down from the air.

  Nicky let them drop into Colin's lap.

  “Hey—!” Colin bellowed. The sticky syrup oozed over his jeans.

  Mom turned around. “Colin, don't play with your food,” she said.

  “Is this one of your magic tricks, Hamburger?” Colin shouted. “Here's one of mine.” He jammed a pancake over my face and smeared it all around.

  “Colin!” Mom cried. “What are you doing?”

  “Offering Maxie a pancake,” he said. He rubbed the syrupy pancake over my hair. Then he jumped up and ran to his room to change into clean pants.

  Nicky and Tara reached for his pancakes and began chewing them up. “I thought ghosts can't eat,” I whispered.

  Nicky shrugged. “No one told us that. We're new at this, you know.”

  “And we're starving,” Tara said. “As soon as we eat, Nicky and I will come to school with you and start helping you.”

  “No, please,” I said, “I don't want to be helped. Please don't follow me to school.”

  Mom stared hard at me. “Max, why would I follow you to school?” she asked.

  “Uh …” Think quickly, Max. Think quickly. “Uh … just in case you missed me?”

  She laughed and gave me a hug from behind. “You're a funny kid.”

  I glared sternly at Nicky and Tara. I wanted to make sure they got the message: I didn't want them to follow me to school. I'm at the top of my class. I don't need help in school.

  Think they came to school anyway?

  Three guesses.

  Think they helped me?

  Three guesses.

  13

  I SAW TRACI WAYNE as I walked to school. Traci is the coolest girl at Jefferson Elementary. I mean, she's the hottest. She's the coolest and the hottest.

  Traci is blond and pretty, with olive-colored eyes and a great smile. Actually, I'm not sure about the color of her eyes because I've never stood very close to her. Only the cool kids get to stand close to Traci.

  That doesn't mean Traci isn't a nice person. She's very nice and very friendly. But she's so totally awesome and cool that she has no choice— she has to hang with cool kids like her.

  Traci was the first one in our sixth-grade class to wear purple lipstick. And the first girl to wear a tiny rhinestone stud on one side of her nose. She's just so totally hot!

  I don't know if I'm in love with Traci or have a crush on her or what. But every time I see her, my cheeks turn bright red, my mouth goes completely dry, and my tongue feels as if it's suddenly too fat to fit in my mouth.

  One day last year I tried to say hi to Traci, and all that came out was “Unnngh unnnngh.” She thought I was choking and slapped me on the back.

  I have this wild daydream that Traci is my assistant for my magic act. I picture her helping me with my Disappearing Girl trick when I perform at the Halloween party at school.

  If Traci was my assistant, my act would be the biggest thing in school history. People would see me onstage with her and they might start to think that I was cool too!

  Sometimes I just shut my eyes and picture what the magic act would be like if Traci was my assistant. Of course, it's a silly daydream. The other kids probably wouldn't think I'm cool, even with Traci. But it's nice to have a daydream, if you're me.

  Anyway, I was crossing Powell Avenue, almost to school, when I saw Traci on the corner. I recognized her by her blond hair first. It was fluttering around her head in the wind. She had her backpack down on the ground and was bending over it, searching for something inside it.

  I came up behind her. I took a deep breath. “Unnngh unnnngh,” I said. That was supposed to be “Yo, what's up?”r />
  She didn't hear me. She didn't look up. She kept searching for something in her backpack.

  “Uh … hi,” I said, but it came out in a dry whisper.

  Suddenly, I felt someone beside me. “You like that girl, don't you, Max?” Tara asked.

  “What are you doing here?” I cried.

  “Searching for my math homework,” Traci answered. “Hope I didn't leave it at home.”

  “You're blushing, Max,” Nicky said. “I think you have a crush on that girl.”

  “Leave me alone,” I snapped.

  Traci looked up at me. “I'm bothering you?”

  “N-no,” I stammered. “I just meant—”

  Tara said, “Nicky and I are here to help you, Max. Go ahead. Be brave. Bend down and help her search.”

  “No. Stop,” I said.

  “Stop what?” Traci asked.

  “Go ahead, Max. She needs help.”

  I tried to pull back. But Tara gave me a hard push. I stumbled—and fell on top of Traci!

  Traci let out a startled cry. My stomach landed on top of her head. We both toppled onto her backpack. “You're crushing me!” she shrieked.

  I thrashed my arms wildly in the air, struggling to stand up. Finally, Traci shoved me with both hands and I dropped, sitting down, onto the sidewalk.

  The papers from her backpack were strewn all over the grass. Her hair was matted against her head. She turned to me and laughed. “Are you on the football team?”

  “No,” I choked out.

  “You should be. That was a great tackle.”

  “Sorry.” I could feel my face turn hot. I knew I must be as red as the stoplight over the street.

  “Go ahead,” Tara said, standing over me. “Be brave. Tell her you think she's hot.”

  “No way,” I said.

  “No way what?” Traci asked. She stuffed her papers back into the backpack.

  “I wasn't talking to you,” I said.

  She glanced around. “Max, who were you talking to?”

  “Uh … myself.”

  Traci narrowed her eyes at me. “You're weird.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I muttered.

  “Ask her to play tennis with you after school,” Tara said.

  “It's too cold for tennis,” I said.

  Traci looked confused. “What about tennis?”